Wishing on another lucky star


He may never know

how many of my hardest stories

end with his laughter echoing in my head;

reassurance that the sun will always find me.

His gaze captured like a photograph,

against the soundtrack of my beating heart.

His hands forever linked, in my memory,

with the word grace.

Foolishly, his voice became my touchstone.

He stilled my tears, with a song,

when my faith imploded,

broken by my parents lack of tact.

“The world is cold, the truth can come from strangers.”

There are connections that heal,

proximity has nothing to do with it.

 

Published by Bexley Benton. (Pen name)

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.

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